


every fire is a lesson learned

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Haruno Sakura, F/F, First Meetings, Fix-It, Rescue, Time Travel, get rekt Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.





	every fire is a lesson learned

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is for the Naruto Rare Pair Bingo, but real life got in the way of me managing more than one fic, so.

Hanzō’s grip on her is bruising, sharp with the spines on his gloves, and Konan can't breathe through the reek around him, rot-sweet death, the memory of so many many Akatsuki members dead at his hands. She strains against his grip, but the poison is seeping under her skin, tangling in her veins, and her head is spinning. She can't quite grasp her chakra; it slips through her fingers each time she reaches for it, and Konan can see in one blinding, terrifying instant how this is going to play out.

“ _No_ ,” she says, but it’s helpless, hopeless. She _hates_ the weakness in her limbs, the slow creep of the poison that’s stealing everything from her, but Yahiko and Nagato are frozen stiff before her, staring at the blade against her throat. They're not moving, not _fighting_ , and if Konan's lungs weren’t freezing over from the inside she would scream at them.

“Let her go,” Yahiko says, voice tight, and the world is swimming in front of Konan's eyes but she can still see the tight-tense line of his shoulders, the pinched set of his mouth. Betrayal, and they were expecting it but—

“For a price,” Hanzō says, and his breath rasps through the mask like a mocking laugh. Konan grabs for her chakra, tries to summon paper, turn her skin to blades, but it’s just out of reach and she _can't_. Her legs almost buckle, and it’s only Hanzō’s hold on her that’s keeping her on her feet. She _hates_ , wants to tear into him, kill him, rip him apart and she _can't manage it_ —

“The price,” a flat voice says, “is you getting out of here with your life.”

Konan can feel Hanzō’s sudden tension, the faint flinch. Unexpected, this voice, and he turns, dragging Konan around with him, to face the woman approaching with steady steps.

She’s no one Konan recognizes, even distantly, and she would remember pink hair and grass-green eyes, the set of her body like she knows every inch of herself is a weapon. There are thick black lines curling down across her face, a glowing point of light on her forehead, and Konan meets her sharp gaze and realizes with a sudden start that the black-clad shinobi who surrounded them earlier are no longer visible on the edges of the valley.

“And who are you, to make bargains like that?” Hanzō asks, and his grip tightens just a little, the kunai opening a line on Konan's throat. She flinches before she can help herself, remembering Akatsuki members all but turned inside out by Hanzō’s poisons, but though the cut burns she can't feel any immediate effects.

The woman’s eyes fall to Konan, like Hanzō is nothing but background noise. Her mouth softens, and there's something in her eyes that Konan can almost read. Steady, strong, and she swallows, holds still even though her limbs want to shake. _Go through me_ , she tries to make her stare say, and the woman’s eyes narrow faintly before her gaze slides back up to Hanzō.

“I’m your worst nightmare,” she says, chin rising, mouth thinning. Her gloved hands curl into fists, and she smiles.

Konan's breath catches in her lungs, and adrenaline sparks. _Oh_ , she thinks, and wrenches sideways with all her strength, knocking Hanzō’s kunai out wide and letting her legs fold. She drops, and there's a cry, but the woman is already moving. In a near-blur, she whirls around, fist flying up, and Hanzō tries to block it but the moment it hits there’s a crack of bone breaking. He recoils with a hiss, but the woman twists around Konan, steps right through the cloud of poison Hanzō expels, and drives her fist into his face with a cry of rage. There's a snap, and the mask tears away, forces Hanzō back, and she follows.

In the same moment, there's a cry, and the earth-shaking wash of Nagato's power rises, almost matching the woman’s. Konan catches a glimpse of him moving, but before she can turn there are hands on her, Yahiko's familiar face filling her line of vision as he gets an arm around her waist and hauls her up.

“Konan?” he demands. “Konan, are you okay? You weren’t fighting, what did he do to you—”

“Poison,” Konan says, and it rasps in her throat, makes her close her eyes as her head spins. She wavers on her feet, tries shaking her head but just feels dizzier afterwards. “Yahiko, Hanzō—”

“Nagato and that woman are taking care of it,” Yahiko says, a grim note to his voice. “And if that rat Kanzō shows his face anywhere nearby, I'm going to cut it off.”

Bravado and big promises, Konan thinks, not quite able to help a smile. She grips his forearm, the world darkening, and hears distantly the panic in his voice as he calls her name, but—

“Let me see her.” It’s the woman, brisk and steady, and hands are laying Konan down on the wet grass. A shadow falls over her, chakra sparks, and the woman makes a thoughtful, distracted sound.

“We’ve never found a cure for Hanzō’s poisons,” Yahiko says, on the edge of alarm. “I can't—I didn’t see what he used, it could be _anything_ —”

The healing glow of green washes through Konan's veins, heat like the sun on the rare moments it peeks through the clouds, and she sucks in a startled breath, opens her eyes. the woman is bent over her, gaze on her face, and when she sees Konan looking back she smiles.

“I've met nastier poisons,” the woman says, plain confidence that makes Konan's heart skip a little. “Why don’t you go help your friend? I think he exhausted himself.”

“Damn it,” Yahiko mutters, and scrambles to his feet. “I’ll be right back, Konan, don’t worry, okay?”

The sound of his retreating steps leaves an easy silence behind, and the stranger hums. Her fingertips frame Konan's face, awash with green light, and she asks with gentle concern, “Are you all right?”

“Much better now,” Konan rasps, and gets an elbow under herself. The woman makes a sound of concern, but Konan pushes her hand away, sits up on her own, and breathes deeply just to make sure she can. Glances up, and—

That’s a Konoha hitai-ate the woman is wearing, half-hidden by her pink hair. No flak jacket, but she’s armed, a big battleax strapped to her back, her sandals caked with days’ worth of mud. There's blood on her fingerless gloves, too, and Konan remembers again the sudden absence of the shinobi ringing the valley.

“What’s one Konoha shinobi doing stopping another’s plots?” she asks, and green eyes widen for an instant before the woman laughs, rocking back on her heels.

“Taking care of a traitor,” she says, and offers Konan a hand, the black lines fading from her face as the mark on her forehead goes dim. “I'm sorry Akatsuki got caught up in everything.”

“I think it turned out all right,” Konan manages. The stranger’s grip is firm, impossibly strong as she pulls Konan to her feet with ease. “Thank you.”

The woman gives her a searching glance, and then smiles. “I was wondering how he managed to get the drop on you,” she says. “Poison makes a lot of sense. It’s the _only_ thing that makes sense, with how strong you are.”

Konan smiles, just a little. People always tend to focus on Nagato and Yahiko as the strong ones, and while she doesn’t _mind_ , since it makes it easier to surprise them, it’s nice to hear her say that. Even if it’s not entirely deserved. “Less strong right now, since I needed you to save me.”

To her surprise, the woman flushes faintly. “It wasn’t selfless,” she says. “I need your help to rescue someone. A prisoner of war, taken by Uchiha Madara.”

Konan blinks, because the woman is speaking directly to _her_. “Even after _that_?” she asks, and it’s a little pained, a little derisive. Hanzō caught her, used her as leverage, and if the woman hadn’t appeared when she did—

But the stranger smiles, is if Konan helpless and poisoned and _weak_ didn’t register for her at all. “Yes,” she says firmly. “Madara won't be able to catch either of us in a genjutsu, and you're a good strategist. I want to get in and rescue Obito without the world coming down, and it’s going to take both of us for that.”

“Who _are_ you?” Konan asks, bewildered, but—not objecting. Without the recue, there's no saying what Hanzō would have demanded, and Konan can recognize a debt owed.

The woman pauses, eyes widening for a brief moment before she laughs sheepishly. “Haruno Sakura,” she says, and offers a hand. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Konan just smiles, clasping her wrist. Makes it firm, but presses the pad of her thumb over Sakura's pulse-point, feeling the thrum of her chakra beneath her skin. “Konan,” she returns, and Sakura is beautiful even in Ame’s grey light, glowing even without the seal. “Whatever you need, Sakura.”

Sakura smiles back, a faint flush in her cheeks, and doesn’t pull away.


End file.
